


Kindergarten

by Fweeble



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Damian is a demonic animal child, Light crack, M/M, baby crushes, pupply love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fweeble/pseuds/Fweeble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim never became Robin. Instead, he became Mr. Drake, kindergarten teacher. Somehow, he still manages to catch the eye of two particular members of the Bat Family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is late. It’s his baby brother’s first day of kindergarten and he’s late and Alfred is going to do that eyebrow thing that makes him feel so guilty and Damian will claw out his eyes. The teacher sure is cute, though.

Dick hates traffic. He also hates that he’s late to pick up his baby brother from his first day of kindergarten and oh god, Alfred is going to kill him. He’s already seventeen minutes late and he’s still another twenty minutes from the school.  
  
‘Really Master Richard,’ his inner Alfred berates him, ‘you should have called me when you realized your shift was running late.’  
  
Yeah, he probably should have. He also probably shouldn’t have insisted he could pick Damian up after school, but he feels as if they haven’t had enough bonding time. It’s been half a year since Damian became an addition to the family and the boy still completely ignores him at home. Surely fifteen to twenty minutes of forced close proximity will bring them both closer together.  
  
He scrolls down through his contact list with one hand, one eye on the road, and resists the urge to do something Officer Grayson shouldn’t do. After thirteen seconds of fumbling, he finds the number he’s looking for and is waiting impatiently as the dial tone rings.  
  
The woman who answers kindly assures him that no, the after school ends at six-thirty, not six before chiding Dick for leaving his ‘poor baby brother, I bet he’s terrified you forgot him.’ She also assures him that ‘Mr. Drake won’t mind at all watching the poor thing’ until he gets there. Dick tries very hard not to snort because at six, Damian has been in the clutches of the League of Assassins for five and a half years. The first day of kindergarten is hardly likely to be frightening for  _Damian_ , Dick’s worried about the poor teacher.  
  
He parks the car next to curb fourteen minutes later and rushes into the school, and promptly gets lost for six minutes as he searches for the after school.  
  
It’s 6:37 by the time he finds it.  
  
He finds Damian happily finger painting. There’s green and yellow paint on his cheeks and Dick almost forgets this is the demonic little brat that had spent the first two weeks at the mansion trying to claw out his eyes whenever he tried to hug the boy.   
  
He also finds someone who is possibly the most gorgeous man he has ever laid eyes on.   
  
Dick tries so very hard not to stare.  
  
“Damian, I know I had promised to pick you up at six, I’m so sorry.” He tries to hug the boy in apology.  
  
Damian attempts to squirm his way out of Dick’s grip, bony elbows digging into vital organs, “Tt.”  
  
“I’m really sorry for running so late, this won’t happen again,” Dick hopes he sounds as sheepish as he feels because the very pretty man obviously has better things he can do after work. Like go on a date with his equally beautiful girlfriend.  
  
He catches himself staring a bit too long at the other man’s lips. Oops.  
  
They are awfully nice lips, though.  
  
“It’s okay Mister Wayne. Damian’s a sweet kid. There’s nothing for me to do after this but buy some to-go for my roommates on my way home after this.”  
  
Sweet kid?  
  
“Dick. Just call me Dick, Mr. Drake.”  
  
Dick eyes the boy in front of him critically. Is it possible Damian’s been replaced by some strange pod-person-alien-thing? Maybe he should consider calling Clark once he gets home.  
  
 _Sweet kid?_

 _  
_“Tim,” the other man insists as he offers his hand and surely he must be a pianist. Or something. His fingers are long and slender; the jut of a wrist bone has never looked so attractive before. “I’m Damian’s kindergarten teacher as well as one of the teachers in charge of the after school.”  
  
 _That smile._    
  
“Oh. I’m glad Damian’s been behaving well.” Because he’s a monster that makes even the Man of Steel cower. “Let me help you clean up. As an apology for running late.”  
  
It’s 6:51 and Damian is giving Dick the stink eye (and frankly, he’s impressed Damian hasn’t tried to stab something in his leg yet, judging by the scowl on his baby brother’s face) before  all the cleaning is done. Tim waves at them goodbye on his way to the faculty parking lot.  
  
While getting into the car, Dick sees him riding a bike out of the parking lot from the rearview mirror.  
  
Damian decides to interrupt his teacher-watching by making a sudden lunge for his eyes. Dick reflexively cringes and protects his face with his arms and curls over to protect his more delicate bits.  
  
Six months living with the demon child has ingrained certain reflexive instincts all prey develop when living within close proximity with ferocious, carnivorous animals.   
  
Dick may have been a Robin, but he’s no Kakapo.  
  
Small fingers with sharp, sharp nails dig into the muscles of his upper thigh as Damian leans in, eyes narrowed.  
  
“ _Grayson_. Stay away from Mr. Drake.” He’s  _mine_.  
  
There may have been a whimper. Dick will deny it. But he knew he was right.  
  
He was right to be terrified for the kindergarten teacher. 


	2. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween and there are costumes and much fun to be had.

It’s Halloween and Damian’s afterschool has this trick-o-treating event. Thing. Dick’s not sure how to classify it.  
  
Either way, it’s Tim and Steph, the other teacher in charge, and some volunteers (generally parents) and a group of children on a sugar high going door to door. Because it’s more fun that way, is what Steph says.  
  
A horde of sugar high kids can only be the demon child’s legion of evil out to wreak havoc and destroy. Except Damian doesn’t like upsetting ‘Mr Drake,’ so there may be hope that all of Gotham won’t go up in a fiery blaze. She’s survived Joker, Two Face, and countless other super villains, but he doubts even Gotham can survive sugared up kids with Damian as general.   
  
Dick scrutinizes himself carefully in the mirror.   
  
He’d spent a few days agonizing over what his costume ought to be. Because both Tim and Steph are really hot and Dick makes it a point of priority to look especially breathtaking when he knows he’s going to meet gorgeous people.   
  
He struggles not to poke out his left eye while applying the eyeliner.   
  
The last finishing touches are done and Damian is fussing with his Slytherin costume.   
  
Frankly, Dick’s perplexed and more than slightly suspicious of Damian’s costume. The boy hates Harry Potter with a passion and spent their movie marathon coming up with the most scathing insults his six-year-old brain could come up with. He has to be up to something. Maybe he is hiding batarangs and explosives in the sleeves of the robe. That has to be, for a lack of better term, child’s play for him.  
  
Damian’s a murderous demon child out to kill him. It’s not batarangs or explosives. There has to be a machete hidden somewhere on his person.   
  
It’s 5:13 and everyone will be leaving the school grounds at 5:40 and if they want to get there on time, they have to leave now. Still… Maybe he ought to pat Damian down again. Because. Machetes.  
  
—  
  
Tim makes the goddamn hottest Bill Weasley.  _Ever_.   
  
He can’t stop staring at that dragonfang earring. The leather boots.   
  
And Tim’s hair is  _red_. Dick can’t deal with this. His  _pants_  can’t deal with this. He didn’t come prepared for this; there is no way he could have ever been prepared for this.  
  
And  _this_  is why Damian picked his costume. The brat knew Tim was going to be Bill  _goddamngorgeous_  Weasley. And look, Steph is Fleur and isn’t she just breath-taking?   
  
“You look amazing, Dick! You make the best Captain Jack Sparrow.” Tim smiles and Steph coos over Damian.   
  
Oh god, he’s going to hell. He’s having dirty, dirty thoughts about both of his little brother’s teachers.  
  
Damian glares pointedly at Dick before grasping Tim’s left hand.  
  
“Grayson is sick. We should go now. He can drive home.”   
  
“No, no. I’m fine, really. You guys look phenomenal. Really.” So phenomenal I’m desperately trying to not embarrass myself.  
  
When they finally hit the streets, Damian still hasn’t let go of Tim’s hand.   
  
Dick is jealous of a six year old. He cannot fall any lower than this.  
  
Except he does have this great view of Tim’s butt that Damian most certainly doesn’t have. 


	3. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like a foolish, childish holiday, but if it earns him a smile…

Contrary to popular belief, Damian is a very even-tempered individual. People like Grayson simply infuriate him with their incessant, inane chattering, foolish smiles, and personal space invading hugs. In fact, Damian considers himself a paragon of self-restraint for having suffered with the fool for so long without crawling through Grayson’s bedroom window with a blade between his teeth.   
  
Damian is a very calm boy with the patience of a saint. It’s not his fault that he’s surrounded by imbeciles of the greatest degree.  
  
The point is: there aren’t many things that bother Damian aside from fools and people who upset Mr. Drake. Damian rather likes Mr. Drake. He has really pretty eyes with long, dark lashes and this small smile that makes something swell in Damian’s chest whenever it’s directed at him. Damian’s stomach does little tumbles and his heart is noisy when Mr. Drake talks to him.   
  
Damian really likes Mr. Drake.   
  
There are many things he is willing to do in exchange for Mr. Drake’s smile.   
  
He suffers every day; the school is filled with nothing but addle-brained fools and lack-wits. But he suffers in silence, because Mr. Drake smiles when Damian paints sunflowers with his fingers. The man frowns when Damian properly educates his peers –someone needs to teach those blubbering fools that no one will come when they cry. Crying is for the weak.  
  
Mr. Drake should never be so troubled, though. Nothing is more upsetting than Mr. Drake’s knitted brows and the disappointed lilt in his voice.  
  
Damian never wants to disappoint him.  
  
If allowing his foolish peers to wallow in their stupidity is what it takes to keep Mr. Drake happy, Damian will do that. He’ll leave everything at home, no knives or wires or swords, he’ll resist dangling David, foot-first from the jungle gym (even if the boy needs to learn how to properly defend himself –what will he do when his grandfather tests him? Grovel?) –he’ll even go the extra mile and not gouge out Grayson’s eyeballs for each time he’d stared too long at Mr. Drake.  
  
This must be the concept of “pacifism,” Damian thinks. It seems foolish. Nothing will change if one just lets things continue as they are –if things are to change, there must be action.  
  
That is why, on the foolish and infantile holiday known as Valentine’s Day (Damian was actually  _required_  to make heart-shaped cut-outs for every classmate, complete with little candy offerings taped to the red paper), he decides to abandon it entirely.  
  
At least for the day.  
  
Mr. Drake walks into the classroom that day looking worn, slight redness and the tiniest traces of puffiness at the edges of his eyes.   
  
There’s something instinctual about Damian’s certainty. He knows little to nothing about his teacher, but he is sure that it isn’t easy to bring the man to tears.  
  
The day passes as any other day, with a long lunch break to exchange the ridiculous, ragged construction paper cut-outs and candy. It’s frustrating –none of his peers seem to notice their teacher’s eyes but him.  
  
Mr. Drake doesn’t leave his line of sight for most of the day. (It was difficult, making the decision to visit the restroom, to have the man where he can’t properly monitor him for signs of distress. The desire not to embarrass himself in front of the man eventually triumphed over his worry.)  
  
By the time kindergarten officially ends and afterschool officially begins, Damian is aggravated and exhausted.   
  
He still doesn’t know why Mr. Drake had shed tears. The redness, so bright, means that the man must have cried for a long, long time.  
  
The redness had faded an hour or two into class, it was gone completely by the time they had lunch and exchanged ‘valentines’.   
  
But it was there. Damian had seen it, had spent hours watching as the color slowly dissipated, even when the tired lines of the man’s shoulders never did.    
  
It’s four pm and Mr. Drake and Ms. Brown are in the backroom, the smell of the vegetable soup being heated for their afternoon snack is thick and mouthwatering, Damian sitting as close as he can to the half-open door without being conspicuous, when he hears the whispers.  
  
It’s hard to hear, even while straining his ears, but from what he can understand, a man is the source of Mr. Drake’s tears. A man who, according to Ms. Brown, deserves to be left in a ditch. He doesn’t quite understand the significance of the holiday has on the man’s actions, but apparently it worsens everything tenfold.  
  
The holiday and the tradition of exchanging paper hearts escapes Damian’s understanding, but he had been told, by Grayson, that it was to make people smile.  
  
And there is very, very little Damian is unwilling to do for Mr. Drake’s smile.  
  
By the end of afterschool, after all the other children have been picked up and Ms. Brown has left and it’s only Damian and Mr. Drake, waiting for Grayson to arrive, Damian is finished.  
  
Damian had spent the last two hours cutting and re-cutting red paper until he had an almost-perfect heart and a pile of scrap paper. He used his best penmanship, decorated the red surface the best he could with the handicrafts present.   
  
In the end, he still lacks candy. He can’t recycle candy from other valentines.  
  
When he gives Mr. Drake the valentine, seconds before Grayson steps into the room, he gives the man a promise in replacement of the chocolate. The promise of an al Ghul, of a Wayne, is infinitely more valuable than sweets.  
  
“I’ll always protect you.”  
  
Damian never wants to see Mr. Drake’s tears.


End file.
